The Secrets We Hide (The Four 2)

“Doubt it. We’ll stick together, anyway. It won’t be all bad.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“It’s a masquerade ball. Maybe you could go for a full-on blindfold, then you won’t have to look at the others.”

“Ha. I might just do that.”

He cocked his head at me. “If you’re in agreement, me and Cass came up with an idea. You know the whole thing with James?”

I nodded. “What about it?”

“I know we said you should stay away from him and let us handle the situation, but we’ve been discussing it, and we’re both in agreement. We thought that since you’re not going to the ball with Cade, if you try and stay away from him the whole night, play up the fact you’re not together, then that might get Granville to drop his guard. Since it looks like the whole purpose of that video was to drive you apart, if he thinks it’s worked, it could be a good opportunity to get some information out of him.”

“Hmm, that’s not a bad idea, actually.” I sat back, thinking. “So I’d be playing the angle of being grateful that I’m no longer with Cade since he’s an irrational, jealous asshole, and see if I can get him to say anything that might give us an idea why the video even happened in the first place?”

“Exactly! I knew you’d understand.” He grinned at me. “Cass won’t let you out of his sight, so you don’t need to worry about anything. Just see if you can get him to talk. To say anything at all.”

“I can do that. Or attempt to, at least. You’d better give Caiden a heads-up, though. I don’t want to actually make things any worse between us.”

“Already on it,” he assured me. He stood, scraping his chair back. “Come on. Let’s get on with this game of pool. Loser has to cook dinner tonight, winner’s choice of food.”

“Deal.” I blew him a kiss and leaned over the pool table, sending the white ball careening into the others, sinking two striped balls. “I’m in the mood for enchiladas tonight. Looks like you’ll be busy in the kitchen.”

“Cocky, aren’t ya?”

I won the game. Just.

TWELVE

Speeding down the mostly empty road, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearstick, I finally felt fucking free. This shit with Winter was messing with my head.

A Boogie Wit da Hoodie’s “Swervin” melted the speakers, the thrumming beats echoing through the car as my phone started ringing. I hit the button to answer, turning down the stereo as I accelerated into a turn, feeling my R8 respond under me, the fucking sweet purr of the engine surrounding me and calming my mind.

Too bad it wouldn’t last.

After the adrenaline rush of burning rubber, leaving dust in my wake as the unfortunate people in their average cars tried to keep up with me, I eased off on the accelerator and came to a halt outside my dad’s mansion, waiting for the gates to open. Why did I get roped into this shit? Me and West had tossed a coin to see who would come here and pick up our suits that we’d had custom made for the ball, courtesy of my dad’s tailor, but he’d guilt-tripped me so I didn’t have a choice, whatever the coin had decided. To be fair, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for my younger brother, and if it meant making myself uncomfortable for half an hour or so, I’d do it, to save him the torture of being around Christine. I’d purposely timed my visit for early morning—if I was lucky, she’d still be in bed.

“What’s up?”

My brother’s voice came through the speaker. “Just wanted to remind you to pick up my Hydra cufflinks. I can’t find them; I think they’re still in my room, probably in the top drawer.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll get them,” I assured him, getting out of the car, holding my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I slammed the door behind me.

The front door was opened by one of my dad’s security guys—I never knew their names, and he told me my dad was outside, training. Of course. He liked to stay fit, so he had a personal trainer come over first thing in the morning, three days a week.

I headed out through the kitchen and followed the path round to the stone terrace out the back of the house, where I found my dad with his personal trainer, doing cool-down stretches.

“Morning, Caiden,” he greeted me, when he saw me standing there. Grabbing a towel, he rubbed it over his face, then handed it to his trainer. “You’re early. Here to pick up your suits?”

“Yeah. Where—”

“One moment,” he interrupted me, as his phone started blaring, vibrating across the stone wall it had been lying on. He strode over and swiped at the screen, talking to whoever it was in a low voice. I sank down on the wall to wait, while the trainer packed up the stuff he’d brought with him—skipping ropes, resistance bands, and shit like that—putting it all inside a duffel bag. A movement in the corner of my vision caught my eye, and I glanced up to see Christine in a silk robe, gesturing at Allan, her face hard as she leaned forwards, shaking her head at him. I sighed aloud—guess I hadn’t turned up early enough to miss her. Fingers crossed I could stay away from her, though—this early in the morning and she was already laying into the staff? Fuck going near her.

My dad snapped his fingers to get my attention and covered his phone with his hand as he turned to me. “This may take a while. Your suits are hanging in your room. See you all at the ball tonight, and behave, both of you.”

I nodded, although he’d already dismissed me, returning his attention to his phone. Whatever. Now Christine was up, I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. I managed to get upstairs, retrieve our suits and West’s cufflinks, and make it out of the front door without her seeing me.

Thank fuck for that.